Eddsworld One Shots - Multiple AU's
by Just Trashy Writing
Summary: REQUESTS ARE OPEN! This is will be a collection of one shots from other AU's of choice. There will be mixed themes and pairings, nothing very drastic however. Ranging from the Original AU, Future, Steampunk, Opposite Day, and so on. So far there is TomTord, TomAra, and TomEdd.
1. Form Fill-Outs!

With this small form, you can fill out _requests_ for any one shots you would like to see.

The most important details that are needed are:

* * *

 **.:. Name(s)**

 **.:.** **Pairings if Any(such as EddMatt or TomEdd, TomTord, etc.)**

 **.:.** **Location, Weather, Time**

 **.:.** **Alternate Universe**

 **.:.** **Genre (fluff, angst, suggestive nsfw, etc.)**

* * *

Other items could be listed down here:

* * *

 **.:.** **Specific Lines / Actions - certain set of actions or words said, perhaps even a** ** _role-play starter_** **could be suitable.**

 **.:. Plots**

 **.:. Length - are you wanting a long shot or a small shot?**


	2. Future TomTord - Mercenary

_"What do you mean, you're out of Smirnoff?"_

It was a another day in 20XX, another cold and dreary night in December. Thomas had been at the local bar having a few drinks, sitting up at the sleek black counter on a matching stool, it hovering a small amount. He's maybe had two . . four . . four? Yeah, four bottles of the intoxicating vodka before being told there was no more of the burning yet addicting substance. Never had the thought occurred to him that they would ever run out, perhaps due to the embarrassing fact that he may have already had been a little buzzed when he had arrived only an hour and a half ago. The visor wearing man had narrowed his eyes through the screen since it had been mostly controlled by the movement of his black eyes and brain waves, the green digital pixels wavering at occasional moments. The barkeep wasn't very scared of the member of the Red Police, as he was a regular and tried not to drink very much unless something had gone wrong in his lone of work - but _what_ had happened earlier.

Tom may or may not have missed a _nonalcoholic_ shot. But he didn't regret it.

* * *

He was to be a sniper on a mission this morning, him ready for action when he realized that his target was none other than _Edd Gould_. The infamous man who had been trying to get another shot at having a drink of Cola, it being outlawed as a very dangerous substance by now. It's been this way for years, yet he's always gotten around the law by going into the past to grab a 'soda' from the fridge, almost causing time paradoxes each time he's done so.

By the time he's been caged up for countless times, the only thing he has taken away is all time traveling privileges and his gun. That's fair enough for a punishment.

It was hard to believe that he was supposed to kill a close friend of his, despite they were in different areas of work and hobbies. He couldn't do it. Tom had already aimed at the once cheerful Cola man, only to throw it to the side and proceed to destroy the weapon he was to use against a dear friend tat had grown to hate him. Working under the Red Leader was hard when you only had Matt with his metal chin and Tord bossing you around as the only people you knew there. The rifle had been dismantled before he had been found out by a shadow ordered to follow after him, him hitting the spy over the head with a part of the heavy sniper rifle. After dealing with the other spy to collect him, he sat on the edge of the building with his legs dangling over the side with a flask in hand. From afar, you could see the faint green hoodie disappear behind that black trench coat and out of the bright snow. Never had he felt so alive at that moment.

When he returned to the base, he had carried a piece of the rifle while marching down the halls to Red Leader's office; the muzzle of the large gun. His black shoes had clicked with each step, partly being covered with his dark grey jeans. His dark eyes may be concealed behind technology, but they held more rage even a high-tech visor could not comprehend. The blue dress shirt had clung to his frame from running and fighting the Red Army spy sent to shadow him, the black tie and vest had sat over the shirt in a loose fashion. When he had gotten to Tord's office, he slammed the doors open with a heavy scowl, seeing the Norwegian man standing at a large wall going over attack strategies and keeping track of the other soldiers he commanded.

 _"Thomas-"_

 **"Don't call me that. I almost shot my friend, Tord."**

And having said this, he hurled the muzzle at the corrupt leader and watched as he stepped out of the way, the muzzle landing against the cork board and then to the floor, knocking a few papers off of the string and tack map. Tord had marched to the blue soldier, red robotic arm visible to all who looked at him. The cold metal arm had reached out to Tom, who had thrown a fist at him, catching his left hand easily. Never was Tom so infuriated with him, after all he was the top mercenary in the Army; killing a stranger may be against the law - yet it didn't cross his lines, but being ordered to kill a distant friend that he had grown close to wasn't right and was unjust to him. Tord had tightly held his hand with a blank face, lifting the eyepatch to reveal a dull grey eye and scars from being forcefully removed from that giant robot years upon years ago. He then spoke lowly towards the visor-wearing man.

"I have grown tired of letting him off easy. I wanted him annihilated. But I had suspected this would happen."

"Suspect _what?_ "

"That you wouldn't follow orders. This is the third time you've disobeyed me. You're inches away from a demotion. Even with that serum running through you."

"I did _not_ want to be this . . this _monster_ you've turned me into!"

Tord had only laughed at him and loosened his hold on the others fist, uncoiling the fist to a loose palm and pecking his knuckles. He got slapped with Tom's free hand harshly, it echoing in the room; the hand print slowly appearing on his left cheek as a faint red or a deep rose. The Leader had blinked a few times, inhaling sharply then exhaling softly. After another moment of silent anger, he spoke in a gruff voice.

 **"Report to my office after hours. You're to be demoted if you do not appear precisely at quarter 'til ten. Tonight."**

"Don't bet on it," was Tom's retort, shoving the communist away from him and marching back out the door. At this time it was currently six in the evening, leaving a few hours without worry if no spies were to follow him. It always seemed that he was never alone anymore, always followed or tracked or watched from a screen. For a few hours, he had been running around town and trying to find Edd again, only to have insults such as _'Traitor'_ and _'Drunkard'_ spat at him. As he had left, he had murmured "that was a nice meet and greet . . I need a drink or four."

* * *

By now it had been nine thirty, him leaving the building and stumbling down the street to an alleyway, dragging his hands along the bricks for- "There it is.." Thomas said to himself as he pressed against an old colored brick, it revealing an eye retina scan monitor. Lifting the visor off, the areas around his eyes and temples were burned and scarred from the laser shot into his eyes, the flesh a deep pink and white in some areas while his partly tan complexion said otherwise. The visor had enhanced his vision and some of his senses, being party numb because of the accident years ago. He pressed his head against the machine tiredly and yawned, hearing an alarm go off.

 **NO DATA FOUND**

 **PROCEED, TOM.**

The monitor had receded back into the wall and revealed a doorway and a ladder, it being a shortcut to the control room, where most missions and reports were filed for others to take and complete. With an unenthusiastic cheer, he quickly pulled the visor on, it reconnecting to his vitals and stepped down onto the ladder as the bricks concealed the hidden entrance. He had taken his time going down the ladder, honestly not wanting to be in Tord's office early or on time. It's . . _fashionably late_. The room was dark and empty, most troops out working or sleeping for the time being. Screens in the room were recording from many cameras placed around the city, showing team members doing tasks and whatnot. He quietly chuckled and made his way down to the aforementioned office, his shirt ruffled and untucked partly, the tie loose around his neck and vest partly shifted. His hair was a slight mess, if he was to speak some words would be slurred and messy, borderline unintelligible.

He pushed the door open and took a seat, glancing over at the clock with squinted pixel eyes. It had zoomed in to se the time better, the clock reading . . about ten or so. Good. Tom sighed in relief and kicked back, closing his eyes with a light smile.

"You're late, Ridgewell."

"And you're still an asshole."

Tord had been sitting at his desk, files at one end and a tray at the other. He held a frown over his face, despite the fairly drunk mercenary could not see or care. He had stood up and walked over to the chair that Tom was currently sitting in, his left hand had gripped the back of the chair while his right had held the seat of the chair between his legs. Thomas had snapped his eyes open and stared at the other's singular visible eye, the green digital pixels sharpening into a glare. The Norski had leaned down towards the other's lips, only to be stopped with a firm hand placed over his mouth. Tom had a smirk plastered over his face, his face flushed with a light pink, not from embarrassment but from the alcohol hitting. The one eyed man had removed the hand forcefully with a huff, actually _trying_ to keep the upper hand for the time being.

"I- You were trying to . . to kiss . . me- Wait. Are you-"

"Yes, I _might_ be. Have you been drinking again?"

Tord had said this before having his mouth covered again, watching as that smirk widened. Tom had softly laughed at the leader, dropping his hand to place an uncoordinated and rough kiss over the other's lips, taking him by surprise. When he had pulled away, his commander's breath had been taken away, him staring widely at Tom with his mouth parted.

 _"Maybe. You getting closer?"_


	3. TomEdd - Alone

It had been at least a month since Tord had died in the giant robot incident, him either a corpse or incognito - but who could survive a crash like _that_ and _live?_ It was around midnight and the whole apartment complex had been deemed to be quiet or silent, Edd quietly walking through the hallways with an empty cola can in his right hand. When he had reached the end of the hallway, he tossed the can into a nearby trash can with a soft yawn. Earlier he hadn't been able to sleep, lying awake at the thoughts of that day. It still hurt to even think about Tord, at how he betrayed his friendship and trust. Walking past Matt and Tom's doors, there was a soft thud of something landing next to the door, startling the Cola loving man.

It came from Tom's door, which was odd at this time of night. _'He should already be out by now,'_ thought Edd, him cautiously walking up the the door. He gently knocked on the door to see if Tom was up moving around and whatnot. The knock was left unanswered, it unnerving. Even the loud snores of Matt next door couldn't lighten the tension of the door. Trying to knob, it had been locked - of course. He had felt around in his pockets for the set of keys used for the others doors, eventually trying the lock. The keys had been colored to help remember who's key belonged to. Purple and green for Matt and blue for Tom, due to what they wear. It's simplistic, but at least his has a miniature Cola can charm to it.

"Tom?" called Edd, using Tom's spare key, sliding it into the lock. He twisted the lock and the door opened with a quick click. It creaked open, revealing nothing but darkness and the strong smell of whiskey. "Tom? You in here?" Edd struggled across the room, searching for a light switch. _Man it was dark in here. And smelly._ He almost gagged at the scent.  
He put his hand against the wall, feeling for a switch. _Maybe some light in here would be nice._

After ten minutes, Edd found a small switch, next to something resembling a fridge. He flicked it upward, commanding lights to glow once more. And the sight, shocked him.

The room had been a complete mess, countless whiskey and Smirnoff bottles lying over the ground, empty and cold. Clothes and hoodies had been tossed around the place, them lying over the couch and tables and carpet. Susan had been tossed to the ground, her neck just _barely_ able to be called firm. Snapped strings and various guitar picks had been scattered about the room, only adding to the mess. Seeing the bass in her condition was probably one of the largest surprise he'd seen at the moment, as Tom would _never_ let Susan fall into this condition.

There was a quiet cry from the corner of the room, sniffs and heavy sighing. There sat Tom, his eyes shut tightly as he sobbed quietly. "Tom? Hey . . what's wrong?" Edd quietly said, stepping over the empty bottles to sit before Tom, examining his features.

A blanket had been thrown over his head, smashing the tall hair he normally had. His eyes had been drooping horribly and were tear ridden, the watery marks trailing down his cheeks. His blue hoodie had been a mess, splashes of whiskey over the pocket and sleeves. How long he had been sitting in this corner is unknown, as it he might have just sat down or had been sitting here for hours. Tom would try to hide himself from Edd's view by trying to cover his face, another hot tear rolling down his cheek.

 _"P . . please l-leave."_

Edd only furrowed his eyebrows and glanced around the room, the bottles the main scent wafting through his nose. He gently placed his hands over the weeping man's shoulders, beckoning the black eyes to meet his brown ones.

"I'm not going to leave you, Tom. I promise."

The other took a moment to process this, probably extremely drunk from the copious amounts of whiskey and vodka consumed; he then gently smiled, shaking lightly as his eyes flooded once again. Soft cries would leave his lips, Tom leaning forward to hug Edd tightly around his torso. The green hoodie wearing man would hug the other back with a sympathetic smile, rubbing his fingertips in small circles over his shoulders. He would do this for a while, seeing that it had calmed the emotional being down a bit. "Come on," he finally spoke, "let's get you to bed." Tom had softly nodded and stood up, holding the damp blanket tightly against his frame. He would walk through the mess and kick the bottles out of the way, clearing a way to his room.

Edd walked alongside him, pushing open the door to see his room slightly better than the living room. Not as messy, but still could have some work done to it. Tom had lied himself down on the comforter with a heavy sigh, burrowing his face into the pillows. Edd hid a small laugh under a hum, knowing that now wasn't the time or place for laughter. He sat on the edge of the mattress and tugged the blanket off of the other's head, smiling warmly. Tom had already fallen asleep over his pillow, eyes loosely shut as the blanket conserved his body heat and build. Some people say that sleeping people are peaceful and cute. Tom just looks tired; but _maybe_ that last applied here as well. _Cute._

"Night, Tom."

He had tucked the blanket underneath Tom with a smile, leaning back over and pecking his cheek. This had been a brief moment - only a second of his time - but he would get up and leave the room, softly closing the door behind him and returned to his room.

 _Little did he know . ._

 _Tom had been awake the whole time._


	4. Steampunk Tord - Brass Goggles

"This is line is _forever_.." I mumbled to myself, seeing that the seemingly never ending line into an inventor's shop was taking up at least half the sidewalk. A small brass robot had been in my palm, it being mostly broken for some time now. A tall, gruff man had been standing in front of me with a canister of a liquid unidentifiable, whatever it was had been sloshing around with each step he took. The inventor owning the workshop had been famous for creating a _flying machine_ that actually works! As well as other small trinkets; watches, prosthetics, toys, etcetera, etcetera. I wanted to see if he could perhaps fix it up a bit to where it could- Oh, the line's moving again.

Taking a few steps forward, I had neared closer to the front door to where the fabled _inventor_ had repaired and tinkered for a living. From recent whispers and rumors, he's from Norway; they said it was obvious in his eyes or voice, or at least one of the two features. Another step forward, and I could hear bits of conversation from inside between the miscellaneous chatter from the line. I had peered out from the side of the man in front of me, trying to get a glimpse of the inside of the workshop. There were two men arguing from inside, the verbal battle seeming to be a heated fight.

From the few glimpses I grabbed, there were key details I did notice, however. There was a man in a top hat, dressed in blue and black. He had a silvery grey suitcase sitting on the ground to his left, the leather having a metallic exterior. The last thing that I _think_ I heard him was was something along the lines of, " _You've yet to do so!",_ with an English accent hanging around. 'Yet to do what?' I wondered, thinking that it was to be a favor of repayment or something of the like. Now the so called _inventor_ being the counter was a bit hard to understand, him mostly speaking in a normal tone, rather than raising his voice at the other customer.

I saw a mix of brown and yellow hair - it almost a dark gold or bright tan shade, as well as two horns made of hair. There was a pair of red and gold goggles just resting beneath the said horns, as well as white and red clothing to complement the accessory worn. I believe he had spoken a while ago, indeed an accent hanging around; can't tell where it comes from, however. " _Your point?"_ were the words he might have spoken. _Might._ Hey, I could be right or wrong.

After another minute, the man in blue and black had emerged from the store with the suitcase gripped tightly, frowning and muttering to himself as he turned away from the line. He had black eyes. No white at all; are they even considered eyes? Are they black holes? I mean, I'm not saying that they draw you in, but they have this magnetic force that forcefully grabs attention. "What's his problem?" I said aloud, perhaps too loud as it dragged the attention of the man in front of me. He looked down towards me and quietly spoke, "That was _Thomas Ridgewell_ , one of the countless businessmen that's tried to offer Tord a spot in their companies. Rumor has it that Tord would only accept the offers if they _meant_ something to him. Like th-"

The man had been cut off by a loud voice from inside, taking me by surprise as well.

* * *

" **Wotcha! No canisters! Only trinkets and prosthetics today, friend!"**

With a disappointed sigh, the taller man had moved out of the line and past the shop, ushering the line behind me to back up a fair bit for the canister of that unidentified liquid to fit. ' _Finally! I'm at the front!'_ I thought to myself and walked through the door, seeing countless shelves of precious metals and inventions of the like, like walking through a candy shop of metal and steam. The air was warm, perhaps a welder had been running in one of the other rooms or a generator that had been left up for later use. To be reminded that this once was an abandoned store left for purchase, had been turned into a splendid workshop for an inventor was just astonishing.

" _Can I help you there? You seem lost."_

Turning to look at the counter, there sat the one and only _Tord Larsson._ Holy shit. Upon closer inspection, there were faint scorch marks and black smears over his red vest and and arms. He wore black fingerless gloves, his fingertips calloused and worn from working with the smallest of parts and machines. It's hard to believe that he's only been here for at least half a year and he's gotten some massive publicity. "Oh, hey! Sorry, I was just looking about the room!" I said cheerfully, earning a flash of a smile and a light chortle. "Aye. A beaute she is. Let's have a looksee at what's pocketed in your hand," he replied in a fairly happy tone, "repairs are discounted for today only."

With a small nod, I raised the brown robot up to view, having it swiped out of my hand by the inventor. "Brass. Broken hitch and jammed gear. Scratches along the joints." "Are you criticizing me?" I blurted out, seeing Tord's vision return to my gaze with a loud laugh. "Not at all!"

"Are you from Norway; Norwegian?"

"Yes."

"Have you been taking offers from Tho-"

"I'm not going to talk about that."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Tord finally said this bluntly, that smile replaced with a heavy frown. The robot had already been opened up to reveal countless cogs jammed together, preventing the robot from moving the way it should. With a moment of silence, the horned man had quietly huffed and went to work, simply ignoring me. ' _There must be more to him and Thomas. He's closed me off.'_ With a quiet sigh, I took a seat that had been leaned against the wall and observed his hands move around in the brass mechanical toy. They moved quite quickly, seeing that the cogs had been replaced with cleaner and smoother gears to turn the metallic limbs with ease.

The Norski had been working on the robotic antique for at least a few minutes, them giving a sharp whistle when it was done. "That was _fast_ ," I muttered just loud enough for him to hear, Larsson snickering quietly, "and you _redesigned_ it too?" "Yep! Hold This button down to turn it on.." He had done so as mentioned before, the eyes lighting up with a dusty yellow and walking along the counter at a quick pace. Before it could get away, Tord snatched it back up and pressed the button again, watching as the toy had taken no time in shutting off, the gears halting to a stop as the power source was disconnected. "Then press it again to switch off."

I had been handed the brass robot once more, feeling the precious metal glowing with warmth. "I'll need a tenner from you, there-" Before he could finish the sentence, I already tossed my money up to the counter and walked out the door with a bright smile, enjoying the improved toy. After a few minutes of marveling the robot, realization hit me as there was a small _tag_ around the leg of the machine, it reading:

* * *

" _You've a nice choice in toys. Stop in again. -You Know Who"_


	5. Future TomAra - Morphine

It had been a week in this god forsaken hospital. Tom lie sleeping on the clean white bed while Matt and Edd had stood in front of him, whispering to one another. The two had been murmuring about his condition union finding Tom in his previous condition. After his leave for the Red Army, the original thought was that he'd accelerate up the ranks and never return; eventually to betray and rid himself of any _friends_ that were alive. Edd and Matt had caught the black eyed man before in alleyways and side streets, having a small chat with him.

Edd had grown distant with him. After Thomas said that he was ordered to _assassinate_ the Cola lover just a few days earlier, they've been farther apart. Insults and sharp remarks had been thrown at one another in private, often resulting in more retorts and small wounds if they hit too deeply. Despite that they were distant, they could never do any severe damage to one another.

Tamara was outside on her phone with Ell, messaging back and forth between one another. Edd and Matt had left the room holding Tom, sighing quietly.

* * *

 **Cola Can - Ell**

 _:: how's he lookin?_

bad

 _:: damn. I really hope everything turns out alright for him.._

yeah

i do too

 _:: you got something in the mail again._

what is it and who's it from

 _:: something with a red logo on it? no return to sender stamp or anything on it._

shred it

 _:: why?_

do i really need a reason?

 _:: i see.  
_ _:: it's taken care of._

thanks

* * *

Tamara shoved her checkered phone into her pocket, softly opening the door once again to see darkened white walls. Her own visor had rested over the black holes called eyes, the green pixels scanning the room to see several machines and operators, softly beeping and clicking. Closing the heavy door behind herself, she took light steps to sit by the severely injured man, the air hard to breathe in the sanitized partial dwelling. Seeing Tom like that had burned. _The Red Army did this._

Recalling the memory of finding him in the remnants of building debris from a war, the details were vivid.

It's a wonder at how they managed to patch him up like this, bandages of all kinds covering the wounds littering his body. Burns of all kinds and lacerations covered his arms and chest, them being treated with medication and stitches. His visor had been shattered upon sheer force, it appearing to have been stepped on by another living being or crushed under rubble around him. His eyes had been closed peacefully, exhausted and too weak to open at this point and time; the scars from the laser shot in his eyes had been visible, it pretty much covering a good portion of his face like a deep rose mask. There's been countless tests of this serum I've been informed of, as well as the rumor of a missing weapon from the Red Army.

"What have they _done_ to you, Tom?" Tamara whispered quietly, trailing a hand towards the others jawline.

 _" . . too many things . . "_

Tom's eyes barely cracked open to view the room he was in, metaphorically meeting his counterpart's pitch eyes. His voice was rough and hoarse, still tough on him to speak. Tamara had silently gasped as the green pixelations in her visor shrunk in surprise, gawking at the now conscious being. He'd shift and hiss in pain, lying on a set of stitches uncomfortably, eyes closing tightly again at the waves of pain hitting him repeatedly. Despite the pain endured, he never cried out.

He never called for help when he needed it most.

Tamara stood up and stretched her hands out to set him back to a somewhat comfortable position, him huffing out loudly at this. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a series of coughs and groans of agony. Tamara would somehow roll her eyes, her resting bitch face stepping into play. Swapping over to his left, there had been a silver tray with a pale yellow substance labeled _morphine,_ swiftly picking up the syringe and inserting the needle into the saline. Only a small dose was given, as to subdue some of the pain he was enduring. Tom would gradually begin to relax, sinking back into the white covers of the medical bed.

 _"You couldn't do it yourself. I would know myself."_

The back of her hand gently rested over Thomas' forehead, the heat practically radiating off of him. _No good._

She clicked her tongue and moved over to the sink, wetting a towel down with cool water. The water wasn't going to be really hot anyways, it's the dead of night and it's a hospital. Tamara walked back over and placed the towel over the wounded man, hearing a sigh of relief pass from his lips. _'Jesus, he's boiling,'_ was the thought flooding into her mind upon caring for him, seeing him pretty much helpless on this bed.

"Been told you've been trying to get that serum out of your system - or at least most of it."  
That'll be good for your health, definitely."

Tom would force a weakened smile, trying to show that the atmosphere was lighter and easier to speak in; Tamara smiled back at Thomas. She'd leave the cool rag lying over Tom's face as to try and break the fever he'd gotten, boots clicking against the tiled flooring until they halted before a chair. The navy officer had taken a seat and pulled a silver flask out, taking a nice swig of the clear but strong alcohol inside. _Smirnoff_. It burned a bit going down, only the burn had grown to a light fizzle after having it so many times at a constant rate. She'd share with Tom, yet he was lying on a bed bound for rehabilitation sooner or later when he arose.

Tom's eyes had started to drift close, only to snap awake again with a barely audible gasp, equally startling Tamara. She had choked on her beverage before frowning at him. "Tom?"

"I can't."

"Can't . . _what?_ "

 **"I couldn't do it - I can't."**

"It's over now; sleep."

She'd adjust the rag on his head, it shifting from it's original placement. Tom shook his head ferociously, sending a small machine to a frenzy of alarms. Tamara's hand flew to either side of his head, trying to narrow down his focus. The digital green eyes bore into Thomas' own pitch black ones, his attention turning to the female officer. To break the unnerving silence after the machine halted its screams, she quietly spoke in a calm and warm voice.

 _"Should I stay?"_

 _"Please."_

No other words needed to be said, arms wrapping around one another.


	6. Future TomEdd - Illegal

**_"Hand it over."_**

Edd was standing at the corner of Broadway and Rock, another man in grey standing next to him. A moment later a clump of money was given to him in return for an aluminum red and white can. Anyone could easily tell what it was from a mile away. _Cola._ Another illegal substance in this cruel and unforgiving world. The trench coat wearing man had walked away from the 'dealer' and walked down Broadway, walking past closed down shops and condemned buildings. Citizens that had happened to be walking along with him had yet to notice the odd shape in his coat pocket, perhaps playing it off as a gun or a traveling device. Edd silently pushed past a group and off down towards another street, hoping to crack open that can before someone eventually discovers him.

The next street was Kite, it being to his right.

 _No one's down there.  
Probably._

He took a right and walked a few paces in the aforementioned direction, making sure he hadn't been followed. We'll say it had been a few minutes down before he pulled off into the closest alleyway in the dark and almost desolate city block. No one seemed to travel own this way. Perhaps it was the reason that it was midnight and this was a road no one was supposed to go down anyways. _Maybe._

Edd fished the cola out of his pocket and tossed quick glances towards the street, making sure that there were no witnesses to retell the crime.

 _Empty streets.  
Good._

He'd retreat into the dimly lit and ominous alley to sigh in relief, the lamp post just a few feet away to emit a soft yellow light. The cold can's condensation against the fairly warm night felt chilling in his hands, the aluminum shell protecting the sugary and addicting substance hidden away. Leaning up against the brick wall, his fingertips grabbed the tab and opened the can with a pop too loud for his liking. But the fizz. _The fizz._

Pressing the rim of the Cola can to his lips, there was a moment of silence as Edd drank from the sweet and addicting _(and illegal)_ soda. He let the bubbles wash over his tongue and mouth, only to sigh happily at the end of a swig.

"That's the stuff-"

There were a few more drinks of the sugary brown liquid before there were footsteps beyond the alleyway entrance, Edd downing the Cola as quickly as he could. He crushed the can and pocketed the aluminum in his trench coat pocket, trying to not look as suspicious as possible. Edd pulled out his gun. Holding the weapon at a close range with his hands wrapped around the grip, the machinery had transformed into a larger gun with several options. Edd quickly tugged on the small lever on the left of the capsule of green ooze to _STUN_ , rather than _PARALYZE_. Aiming at the alleyway entrance, the Cola loving man had taken a stance against whomever it may be.

There was a _tap_ on his shoulder from behind him, thoroughly startling Edd.

 _I might have forgotten that the other side of the alley was open.  
Again._

With a heavy sigh and his tracks put to a halt, he turned around to face whomever it may be, lowering the weapon to the ground.

It was Matt with Tom at his side, arms crossed with pistols holstered at their sides; Tom's resting at his left and Matt's on his right. Matt's metal jaw had glinted in the faint yellow lamp from the streets, the steel still capturing the formidable chin he always had. The single robotic eye the right of his face had bored into Edd's brown ones, the red a menacing shade against the rawness of the grey. He opened his mouth to roughly speak, Tom crossing his arms with a bland expression.

"Where's the can?"

Edd rolled his eyes with a huff and tossed the crushed can to the duo, swearing beneath his breath. If only Matt hadn't been prowling around like he normally was, and if Tom hadn't been influenced and forced into the Red Army, he _would've_ savored the Cola he managed to pay cold hard cash for. The aluminum can had clattered onto the ground noisily, Tom bending over to pick it up with a disappointed sigh and pass it to Matt. He brought himself back up to pat Matt's shoulder and nod him along, glancing back at the direction they emerged from. The metal jawed man had furrowed his eyebrows and nodded, then walked out to the street instead, Edd lightly chuckling at the act. The officer had taken the opportunity to push him against the cold brick wall to glare at him through the visor; Edd glared back just as cold.

Even though the pitch black holes of his original eyes were not visible, Edd knew that Thomas was angry with his recent actions just by the silence. Through this extended moment of silence, Tom pressed his lips against the others briskly. Though it was on the slightly rough side, the Red Army officer did not intrude any farther than this. After a few seconds, he pulled away with a frown and spoke with the hint of a growl.

 _"It's getting out of hand. Stop."_

There had been some very deep concern in the word, it seemed. The warmth of his lips lingered for only a moment before it was diminished in the cold night wind, tossing both Tom's and Edd's hair. Moving back from Edd, the green pixels flickered within the black and grey visor. There was another heavy moment of tension before Tom started on his way out the alley, gravel scattering beneath his steps. The green hoodied man had lightly laughed and took his own leave, hands shoved in the deep pockets of the darker trench coat.

Who knew an _officer_ tasted so _illegal?_


End file.
